Bouncing Agoraphobe

As you can tell from my last post, I’ve had a bit of depression in addition to the anxiety and agoraphobia.  Oh, and I’ve quit smoking, too.  I’m just loads of fun this week!  I seem to be going from moment to moment in any given attitude.

First I’ll be super excited.  I can’t wait for my appointment on Thursday.  What does the appointment hold for me?  What will the doctor’s office look like?  What kinds of medication will be suggested?  What if this helps me, like it all just works – wouldn’t that just be a kick in the pants?  Oh, there’s so much to be excited about, so much to look forward to.

Then I’ll be extremely apprehensive.  What if this doctor is a total douchebag?  What if his office smells?  What if he argues with me and insists on putting me on medication I’ve already tried years ago (this has happened before, an M.D. isn’t a diploma for common sense)?  What if he thinks I’m a fraud, or worse yet not an anxiety/agoraphobia case at all, but just an attention seeker?  A drug addict looking for my benzo fix?

Then there’s the whole part about being away from home and my fiance, who should be nominated for sainthood, by the way.  I miss him terribly.  I feel so guilty and embarrassed for dumping all of this on him and just expecting him to wait around for me to start getting better and come home.  I often wallow in my own shame for putting so much on him, and then picking fights and making outrageous demands – all because I was too afraid to tell him what was really going on.  Not that I really knew what was going on, but that’s neither here nor there.

At any point during the day, you’ll find me in one of these states of mind.  It tends to follow the clock schedule pretty well.  Mornings are good – I’m optimistic and  ready to kick some ass.  Afternoons I start to get the apprehensive fidgety thing going on.  And evenings seem to be a complete wreck of crying, guilt, shame, etc.

But I really only have to make it a little more than one more day to put at least this phase of it behind me.  Thursday can’t come soon enough.  Or can it?  I don’t know, what time is it?

And if you’re curious about the non smoking, as of right this second I have been a non-smoker for 16 hours, 52 minutes, 26 seconds.  In that time I have not smoked 14 cigarettes I would have otherwise, and saved $4.20.

Wish me luck.  On all of it.

The Hypochondriac Agoraphobic

I’ve spent the majority of my day in bed, having strange dreams about diamonds and email and other random things. I woke up feeling hazy and weepy. I thought I was just having some kind of estrogen surge of some sort until I wound up later on the floor of the restroom. I’ll leave the graphic details out, but I was indeed hating life right then. After my stomach was done kicking me while down, it let me have a rest. A three hour rest, at that. Thankfully, I’d gotten most my chore duties done early in the morning when I was just hazy.

X’s Nana (my mother) was ready to swoop in and care for him while his Mommy rested. I won’t think too hard about it, because if I did I might wonder if she took some joy out of her gain from my misery.

I think the point here is that there is nothing wrong with me. Yes, I felt ill. Yes, my head pounded (probably from the bit of self-medicating I did last night – save your lectures, I’ll just ignore them). But I think the truth is that today is Monday, and that means it’s now the same week as Thursday, which is when I go bare my soul to some jackass with a medical degree. And this scares me to death.

No, not because I have to tell my story and admit my faults to the possible jackass. Not even because there’s a real possibility that this doctor is indeed a jackass. But because I feel like this is it. This is my last chance to get it right. If I fall down again now, I’ll never get up. What if the jackass in question can’t help me? What if this is as good as I get?

That’s enough to make anyone ill with a pounding head.